


Encaustic Painting

by LePetitMonstre



Series: Kink/Gore October 2018 [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Degloving, Goretober, Kinktober, M/M, Scalping, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 15:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16200653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LePetitMonstre/pseuds/LePetitMonstre
Summary: Gore: Knives | Kink: Wax PlayHannibal Lecter’s menagerie is ever growing.





	Encaustic Painting

**Author's Note:**

> This writing is intended only for mature audiences. Please mind the tags.
> 
> Reader Discretion Is Advised

The bedroom of Hannibal's house is as well kept as Will expected. Per Hannibal's request from the office downstairs, Will undresses in the bedroom. The strangeness isn't lost on Will, but he trusts Hannibal's unorthodox methodology. 

He has found it easy to trust Hannibal, and he's not sure why. Perhaps this is just the nature of his curse/gift of empathy. Perhaps this is how a patient is supposed to feel for their therapist. Or maybe this is because Will feels now as if he's walking through the night of other men's madness with someone presenting the aura of 'bigger, scarier' covering his back. He suspects the answer is all of the above. 

The bathroom is not exempt in luxury compared to the rest of the house. A soaking tub sits off center on the floor and Egyptian cotton towels are hung over a rack embedded in the wall. 

Only when he's completely free of his clothes does Hannibal enter the room, as fully dressed as ever. Pangs of self-consciousness run through Will, but he keeps them down. This is a man of medicine. It's nothing he hasn't seen before. It's nothing he doesn't find blasé. 

Hannibal approaches him with the intent Will might use to approach a stray dog. Slowly, but with feigned disinterest. Lips curled slightly into a disarming smile, but no teeth showing. 

A hand settles on Will's shoulder. A kiss pressed to his forehead. He's more surprised that he's not surprised. The gesture reminds him of childhood - of his mother doing the same to gauge his temperature when he was ill. But he's not ill now. He's not. 

"Follow me, please, William." Hannibal directs Will into the bathroom holds out an arm to help him into the tub. 

"You did not note any significant allergies in your medical history." 

"No," Will answers. Settling against the cold enamel. 

"This may burn at first, but the melting point is well below the temperature needed to damage the skin, even temporarily." 

The heat of the wax on his face sets the world askew. It does not burn, but it is deeply uncomfortable to his already overheated brain. Gravity tips as if he's on a boat in a storm. The wax is nowhere near his eyes, still, his vision blurs like he's looking through a set of glasses that aren't his own. His mouth opens to warn Hannibal he feels he might become sick, but no sound escapes his throat. 

Wax drips onto his chest and he thinks of a lover's hand. Down his stomach... Enough has passed over his face to glue his eyes shut. Any light coming through Will's eyelids dimmed and took on a purple tone. It drips into the hair at his crotch and down to ever more sensitive flesh. 

Will reaches to the wax on his face, hoping it doesn't pull out patches of his scruffy excuse for a beard. Before he can disturb the wax Hannibal catches his hand. 

"Please, William, do not disturb the wax. Full immersion is essential." 

All of Will's face and the edges of his hairline becoming ariled. Searing sharpness cuts into his scalp. Slicing deep through the layers of his skin until hitting bone. His hands rush to the pain and he is cut on the scalpel in Hannibal's fingers. Only one of Hannibal's hands is needed to hold Will's wrists away and suddenly he feels so very weak against this man he thought he could trust. 

The scalpel is carving into him again - acute pain traveling along his temples and jawline. And up around his face on the other side. With a drag of the knife edge, the skin of his face begins to peel away. Under the wax he cannot grimace in terror, the wax holding together his face at his previous moment of pleasure. A grotesque snapshot for Hannibal's keeping. 

Will awakens in his bed, covered in sweat. The early morning is muted yellow and Winston is asleep, snoring against his flank.

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and/or kudos. It makes an author's life brighter to hear from readers. Let me know if you spot any mistakes. Constructive criticism is always welcome. [The comment screening is just for antis.]


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